Harry Potter and the Mantle of the Dark Knight
by Baronvonblack
Summary: Seeing his adoptive parents killed at the hands of a Death Eater, a young Harry swears vengeance on those who prey on the fearful. Vowing never to use a wand, the weapon that took his parents away, he is taken in by Batman, to be forged into legend.


The forecast claimed that it would be raining the entire week. His satellites confirmed it. The downpour was coming down hard, lightning streaking through the skies, illuminating it in bright crackles of light, otherwise, the all-consuming black clouds made it seem a long night. Perched on top of the spires, unnoticed amongst the fading cracked gargoyles of the old church, the rain didn't bother him at all, and he ignored it as he had been taught. These old gargoyles still haunted the city, perched on the towers, frozen in form, silent protectors of the city. He had always mulled over the irony. Gargoyles, dark creatures of the night, protecting the realm of the day.

It was fitting. In a way, he connected more to them than he did to anyone else, and he wondered if his father once did as well, many years ago.

But unlike the stone statues, he was unbreakable. Indomitable. He would not crumble into dust, because here, he was more than a man.

With a thought, his vision changed into a holographic blue as he watched the two trucks pull up on the curb, the thugs' skeletal figures clearly highlighted. He counted thirteen men, armed with pistols or shotguns, however as they moved out, dragging along large crates full of fresh drug shipments into Gotham, however they weren't experienced. They were all fresh, baby-faced and young, hardly what he was expecting. Inwardly he was a little disappointed. _I had hoped for at least some challenge. Looks like I won't need to break a sweat._

Leaping off the spire, he twirled through the air, arms outstretched as large, almost wing-like structures burst to life, gliding through the air with hardly a sound, landing on the platform below. Gently prising open the window, he raised his arm and fired his grapple, swooping unseen through the shadows, as he picked out his first target and moved.

Like lightning, the dark knight pushed his feet out in front of him, kicking the punk through the air and landing perfectly, rolling forward before leaping to his feet to avoid ground shock.

"It's the Bat!" Another screeched, trying to bring his weapon to bear, but Batman had already moved, grabbing him by the jacket and executing a flawless throw into another thug that was just about to fire. He paused, surveying his opponents.

None of them had fired, as he expected. Many of them were trembling, fumbling with their weapons, trying to cock them to chamber a round – sloppy. Some didn't even have the safety off.

He burst into motion, and things turned hectic – for them, anyway.

A swiftly executed roundhouse kick knock another one out of the fight, and Batman used the impetus from that to springboard into several goons who had clustered together too tightly – slamming another out of the way, he grabbed two of them and knocked their head together, before grabbing another one as a human shield as someone turned to fire, getting the man in the arm – a non-fatal injury. _Dad wouldn't approve, but I know what I'm doing_.

A quick heel palm strike and uppercut dealt with two more, using his suit's enhanced strength, he cut through the goons like a rifle round through thin wood – in the absolute chaos of the moment, many of them were firing wildly, often hitting their own, while he was precise, deadly, the pinnacle of martial mastery, calm, always in control, as he had been taught – meditation through battle.

Soon, the thugs all lay strewn across the tiles of the old church, badly beaten and unconscious. He briefly checked to see if any of them were playing possum before he went for one of the crates, stepping over several bodies.

_Not bad for an amateur job, even if it's a large amateur job. I'm surprised I didn't catch wind of it till now. _Batman brushed a gloved hand over the crate. _No shipping manifests, no stamps, nothing. Too clean, too professional for amateurs. They must be pawns_._..._ he gripped the side of the lid tightly, and pulled it off... just as his mind clicked and he realised exactly what was in here. _No! It's -_

A maniacal laughter filled the air, echoing through the cavernous building. It was a laughter that he knew too well. It was a laughter that had terrorised Gotham for many years, and had belonged to his predecessor's greatest rival.

Emerging from the shadows was the Joker, looking as ghastly as he did the last time they had faced him, though Batman knew that it was just a facade. He could see all the minute details, the cobwebs around his eyes, the wrinkles, the sagging skin, barely imperceptible behind that acid-scarred face, which had bleached his skin white, turned his hair green and stretched his lips, and made them ruby red.

It was the aging face of one of Gotham's greatest villains.

"Not as quick as he was, are you?" he sneered. "I set a trap, and you sprung it gloriously! You're _mine _now."

Batman regarded the long-time foe coolly. _Joker's angry. He's not playing around anymore. Figures, I doubt he has much time left._ "I know." He growled, his voice like gravel on sandpaper. "You've been planning this for months, haven't you? You wanted my attention. You wanted to lure me in here, to finish me off once and for all."

"SHUT UP!" The Joker roared, pointing his finger at him. "You're not _him._ You're _nothing_ like him!"

Batman narrowed his eyes.

"Drop it. Drop it now!" The Joker demanded.

"What do you want Joker?"

"I _know_ what you are." The Clown Prince of Crime cackled, rolling another crate in, and pulling it open... to reveal a certain old wizard with a frozen smile on his face.

_Dumbledore! _Batman's eyes widened almost imperceptibly, as his fists tightened. _What have you done old man?_

Joker smirked gleefully, stroking Dumbledore's beard. "Ah, the poor fool. He was looking for you, you see, and in I drop, weeping about all my crimes..." he faked a sniffle. "...and begging for a chance at redemption! He was so moved, and so angry that you were beyond forgiveness – though because he was looking for you, I learnt what you are. I know now, all these years... how you managed it. How you tricked all of us. Ace up your sleeve, huh, kid?"

"I'm not a kid," Batman snapped as he dropped a thin, wooden stick, kicking it across the floor. "So this is your trap? Hide explosives in those crates, wait for me to come and blow it sky high? Not exactly like any of your other master plans."  
"You know NOTHING!" Joker snarled as he snapped the stick, tossing the pieces aside. "You're just the beginning. Once I kill you, the _real _Batman will come back! That overgrown boy scout never knew what was good for him!"

"That's where you're wrong." Batman stated. "Once I'm gone, there are plenty willing to take up the mantle. And as for him? His time has passed..." he leaped through the air, shifting into a kick. "As has yours!"

Joker narrowly evaded, bouncing from side to side. "Bring it on Bat-fake!" he grinned. "But be warned, I've got a few new tricks up my sleeve!"

_I don't doubt it_. A Jeet Kune Do strike turned seamlessly into a Taekwondo hammer kick, and both were deflected as the final battle between Batman and the Joker begun.

As the two opponents danced around each other, Batman stayed back, deflecting, parrying or evading his blows, studying him, learning his rhythm, his pacing. _Joker was never this good when dad fought him. He's inhumanly fast, and his blows are too strong for any human. Dumbledore must have augmented him with magic._ Quickly he raised his arm, blocking a kick, and leaping to the side as Joker threw a set of bladed playing cards before replying with a flurry of punches to the villain's face, knocking him away. _And his endurance has vastly increased_, he noted as Joker picked himself up almost immediately, rage evident in his features.

"You hit me... YOU HIT ME!" Joker screamed, unleashing a stack of explosive marbles – Batman leapt into the air to dodge him, but it turned out to be a ploy as the Joker unleashed an inhumanly strong flying kick, throwing him to the ground with a crack, though his suit shielded him from the brunt of the force.

Joker jumped on him, pinning him down as he ripped off his cowl, revealing a hard, chiselled face, a fading lightning bolt scar streaked across his forehead, long, mane-like messy hair, and glowing emerald eyes. "You're dead, bubs," he uttered. "I'll kill you then I'll finally kill the _real_ Batman!"

Harry smirked. "Why do you want to kill him so much? Does it really wound you that in all those years, you never managed to crack a smile out of him?"

WHAM! Joker smacked him across the cheek, forcing him to cough up blood, without his special _talent_, he never would have survived that blow. "SHUT UP! I make the jokes around here!" he growled, digging into his pocket for his revolver.

The superhero didn't back down, his smirk ever-present and mocking. "That wasn't a joke, but the truth. The truth is, you hate the fact that you never made him laugh, never even giving you a chuckle, not even a curling of the lips for that matter. You never reduced him to what _you_ are, and that's why you hate him. You hate him for being _better_ than you!"

The Joker raised his revolver, cocking it. "Here's the punch line!"

"Interesting choice of words!"

SMASH! An invisible fist sent Joker whistling through the air, slamming hard into one of the crates and splitting it open to reveal in fact that it carried explosives, not drugs. Batman leapt up, levitating the Joker before dropping him.

The Joker screamed in pain as his body hit the ground with a sickening crack. Harry remembered that in addition to the charms the Joker had a very high threshold for pain so had used quite a bit of force. He repeated this several times, until he released him, stepping over to the Joker's broken and mangled body.

Harry took his cowl, and slipped it back on. Exhaling, he became Batman once more, his white, soulless eyes regarding one of his father's greatest foes, before turning to Dumbledore's corpse, his lips stretched into a permanent, horrific smile. "Old man, your penchant for forgiveness has finally caught up with you," he stated dryly, the irony not lost on him. "I thought I told you never to speak to me again. Trying to control me for the greed and protection of wizard kind is selfish and unforgivable. No matter your intentions, your sins have finally destroyed you." He straightened up as a burden seemingly dropping from his broad shoulders. "This was and always will be my home. I will defend it to my last breath, because there are people here worth saving and redeeming. Not yours." With that, he turned his back on the would-be mentor, to his current problem.

The Joker coughed weakly, staring up at his opponent. "Not bad. Maybe you can live up to being the Batman."

"The student always surpasses the teacher," Batman stated in his gravel tone. "There were several times I could have displaced you. When you went to pull off my cowl, I could have sent 20, 000 volts into your system, and from the moment you threw a punch I could have sent a magical pulse into your body, resetting your nervous system. Face it, Joker. You're _obsolete_. You're the last of _his _old enemies who aren't dead or in solitary confinement with no chance of escape. Once you're gone, the mission is over."

"Well, bubs, take me in..." Joker raised both his arms. "Back to Arkham we go!" he giggled, only to freeze as the Batman merely looked at him with that frightening glare. "What's up Bats? You're not gonna kill me out of some misplaced sense of self-righteousness, are ya? I'm clearly off my cahoots, I need _help_, special _help_, right?"

Batman narrowed his eyes, before turning, flicking his hand as a batarang appeared. He threw it towards the crates as it exploded, setting them on fire before he wrapped the Joker up in a mass of chains with a thought. "You're right. I won't kill you..." he fired his jet boots and activated his glider wings. "But I won't have to save you."

The Joker gaped after him in shock, paralysed for several moments. Slowly, he began chuckling. Soon, the chuckle turned into a full-blown, demented laughter as the fire reached the crates, and engulfed the building in a complete inferno.

Batman watched from a safe distance away. No one got out.

The Joker and the Batman, the _true_ Batman, had been halves of a circle, balancing on a precarious swing. They danced and danced their duel of death around each other, wondering when it would all finally end. He understood this. _Neither could live while the other survived._

And now Joker was dead. His father was free.

_Dad, it looks like your mission is finally over_. His hands balled into fists as he turned to see the Bat-signal. _My one however, is just beginning._

**HARRY POTTER AND THE MANTLE OF THE DARK KNIGHT**

**Many years ago**

"Zatanna... glad you could make it."

The young woman regarded the dark knight warmly as she walked down the stairs to the Batcave. "Hey, Bruce. I came as soon as I could. What is it?"

Batman typed in a command on the computer, pulling up the picture of a young boy with vivid green eyes and messy black hair. "His name is Harry James Potter, age six, biological parents' names unknown. He was found in the streets of London with signs consistent with constant physical abuse and negligence as well as considerable psychological trauma and placed in an orphanage. He was adopted by Lee and Tanya Adams, who moved to Gotham. Lee Adams was a mechanical military engineer while Tanya Adams was a medical researcher who did a stint at Arkham."

"That's all well and good, but this doesn't see why you brought me here," Zatanna frowned.

Batman narrowed his eyes. "Yesterday, his adoptive parents were found clinically dead."

"Whoa... this kid's had a run of bad luck hasn't he?" Zatanna breathed. "Wait, 'clinically dead'?"

"Exactly, and that's the problem. From the forensic reports, though Lee and Tanya Adams are undoubtedly dead, there is no indication of what killed them. It's as if they just dropped dead," Batman stated. "That's impossible even for a meta-human. There's always a trace of whatever killed them."  
"So you think magic had a hand in it?"

"It stands to reason." Batman stood up, pulling off his cowl. "I want you to accompany me. I've hacked into the hospital computers and manipulated the time schedule; we'll have fifteen minutes alone with him."

Zatanna nodded. "I'm guessing you're not exactly going for the 'fright' routine?"  
"Very funny." Batman stepped behind a changing screen, and a moment later Bruce Wayne stepped out, dressed in a crisp Italian-made suit. "You coming?"

"I'll make my own way there. See ya, Bruce."

Several minutes later Bruce was looking out the window of the car, watching the city fly past. _His _city. "Forensics showed nothing, Alfred. It's as if his parents' hearts simply stopped beating."

His loyal butler glanced at him in the rear-view mirror. "As fascinating as this case sounds, Master Bruce, it seems to me that you are taking this more personally than you realise."

Bruce frowned. "It's my responsibility to make sure the city is safe, Alfred, and if there's even a chance that a weapon that could kill without leaving a trace comes into my city…"

"That may be so sir, but you must admit, you've always had a soft spot for children with tragic childhoods."

"I would _never_… not after Jason…"

"From my experience, these decisions seem out of our hands," Alfred said contemplatively as they parked in front of the central hospital.

Bruce stayed silent as he stepped out of the car, turning to look down the street. "Come on, Zatanna, let's go."

"Honestly, I can never tell how you're doing that," she huffed, materialising out of thin air with a mutter.

Bruce smirked. "It's my city, remember?"

The two walked through the waiting room – Bruce glanced at a strange, long-haired man dressed all in black, narrowing his eyes slightly. _There's something odd about that guy. Too odd, even for…_

"Bruce? Hey, you there?"

They rounded a corner. "…I'm fine Zatanna. It's this way." Mentally he berated himself. _I got distracted. Not good. This case isn't doing wonders for my paranoia. Alfred was right… I'm taking this too personally. _"This is it," he announced, looking in through the window before opening the door.

The boy was small; it was hard to believe that he was five. Bruce looked him over, in his hospital gown it wasn't too hard to spot the fading bruises and scars.

As if he sensed their presence, his eyes snapped open, revealing startling emerald eyes. "W-Who are you?" Harry asked weakly.

Bruce smiled, kneeling by his bedside. "Hi, Harry. I'm Bruce, Bruce Wayne, and this is my friend, Zatanna Zatara. Do you mind if we ask you some questions?"

"A-Are you policemen?"

"No, we're friends," Bruce soothed. "We're just trying to figure out what's going on..."

"It was a man," Harry whispered angrily. "H-He was tall and ugly, wearing a funny black dress... he broke into our house, said some mean things to me, he wanted me to go back to my Aunt and Uncle..."

Bruce narrowed his eyes at the venomous tone in his voice once he mentioned his relatives. _Why would someone want to force a child back into an abusive environment?_ "Go on, Harry."

By this point the child was shaking, trying to hold back his tears. "T-Then my d-d-daddy rounded on him, calling him s-s-s-some names... t-t-they shouted at each other... t-t-then d-d-daddy said something, something that made him a-angry... he p-pulled out a stick and s-s-said something, and it shot a green light at him... and he died... then he k-k-killed mummy..." at this Harry couldn't hold it in any longer, and he burst into tears, sobs wracking his body.

"Hey, it's gonna be okay, Harry," Zatanna whispered, sitting by him and hugging him tightly. "You're gonna be okay..."

For Bruce however this was déjà vu, as he tightened his fist in cold fury. Another child had been forced to see their parents murdered before their eyes. At least with him, and Dick, they had fond memories of them, but this child had never even known his true parents. He had been adopted, from what he had gathered, by relatives who abused him, and running away, he had temporarily found peace, limping on in life, as they all did... only for it to be taken away.

The rustling of cloth made Bruce perk up, his sharp senses detecting the disturbance as he turned around. _Heavy cloth dragging on the ground... or a ROBE..._ "Zatanna down!" Bruce roared.

"_Obliviate!" _

A glowing light went whizzing over his head – for one who dodged bullets on a daily (or rather nightly) basis this was like child's play. Zatanna had started moving... but Bruce was faster.

Before anyone could blink he had swiftly disarmed the attacker, hit him several times and thrown him to the ground, jumping on him and restraining him by twisting his arms. "Who are you?" Bruce snarled. "WHO?"

"S-S-Severus Snape..." the man choked under his powerful grip.

Zatanna narrowed her eyes as she picked up the wooden stick the man was brandishing. "As I thought. A wand."

WHAM! With a single hit Bruce knocked the man out, standing up with a solemn expression. "So he's a sorcerer then?"

"No, a wizard," Zatanna corrected. "There's a whole population of witches and wizards, they keep their existence a secret and mostly stick to themselves. I'd doubt they keep up with things in the real world..."

Bruce whipped around suddenly in shock as Snape was thrown back by an invisible force – with surprising speed Harry jumped out of bed, tears in his eyes as he jumped on the man, smashing him in the face with several punches. "YOU RUINED MY LIFE!" He screamed, punctuating his words by repeatedly hitting him in the face. "You ruined everything! I was happy!" WHAM! "I had parents that loved me!" WHAM! "I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!" WHAM! WHAM! WHAM!

Finally, when the murderer's face was full of bruises, Harry stopped, snivelling pitifully as tears continued to drip down his cheeks.

Bruce sighed, kneeling down beside him. "How do you feel now, Harry?"

The boy took in a deep breath, wiping his eyes dry, his eyes world-weary and burdened. This was a child who had seen his share of the hard life. He had been orphaned, abused, to run away and linger in the mean streets of the darkest corners of London, understanding the desperation for food, to do whatever he could to gain the necessities, to being dropped in an orphanage and finding some semblance of happiness and love – only to take it away. And this time it would never come back. "Empty. Why did he do it? Why?" he asked in a soft whisper.

Bruce narrowed his eyes. "We'll find out soon."

-B-

Snape was not having a good day; he knew that from the very moment Albus had ordered him to go to Gotham City to track down Potter.

_Potter..._ that brat was probably living like a king! His aunt and uncle weren't good enough for him? Fine, he would get some other parents who bent to his every whim!

It had been going well as Snape tracked down the scion of his hated enemy. In the dingy backlit streets of Gotham the former Death Eater fitted in perfectly with all the scum, and once he had broken in he had enjoyed mocking the boy before moving to put him back in his place.

But then that _filthy_ muggle dad had to jump in! And then he had the nerve to insult him, Snape was ready to enjoy putting the muggle in his place... but then he went too far, claiming that he was criminal filth that if he had any girlfriends he would've driven them away in disgust!  
It had been too much for Snape – the son of his schoolyard bully, the comment, the foreign environment... Snape had killed him, and then killed the female muggle before she screamed.

He had tracked Potter down to a hospital... but now found himself hanging precariously over an alleyway, rain dripping down his head.

Suddenly, a powerful hand gripped him, pulling him up and Snape recoiled in fear. _What are you? _

It was like nothing he had ever seen, an amalgam of man and monster. Glowing, white, soulless eyes pierced through him. Its skin was black, with only the barest patch of skin around its mouth, and it had pointed tips that almost resembled the ears of a bat. _**"Why are you in Gotham?" **_It demanded in a rumbling, harsh baritone.

The greasy Potions professor squinted – the thing was half-consumed by shadows, it was impossible to get a good look. He sneered. "You'll never get the answer out of me, you filthy... AHHHHHHHH!" his scream echoed off the alley walls as he went plummeting towards his death, the wind whooshing through his hair – just before he hit the ground, there was a jerk before he went flying up, back into the monster's grasp. _What magic is this? _

"_**Answer the question!" **_The monster growled. _**"What are you doing in Gotham?"**_ When it was clear that Snape stubbornly refused to answer, yet again he went plummeting towards the ground, though this time as he came zipping back up he felt hot pain searing on his already bruise-covered face. Whirling around, Snape saw the monster with his wand in its hand. _I-It can use magic?_

The monster raised his wand against him. _**"I won't ask again."**_

Snape gulped – whatever this thing was, it appeared capable of using powerful magic. In addition, who knew what other abilities it had, or range of dark magic at its disposal? Was he ready to risk his life for the brat of his high school enemy? "Dumbledore sent me," he readily conceded. "He had tracked Potter to Gotham City, and requested I retrieve him."

"_**Why?"**_

"Because he needed to return Potter to his relatives..."

The monster narrowed its eyes, and suddenly Snape found himself being hoisted into the air. _**"I don't want to ever see your slimy face in Gotham again," **_it snarled. _**"You hear me?" **_

"I won't!" Snape stammered in horror, making the mistake of glancing down to see the drop. "I-I swear to Merlin..."

"_**SWEAR TO ME!" **_The monster thundered, and with a powerful heave he threw Snape into the air, sending him screaming as he plunged towards certain death.

Snape was certain that he would die – in fact as he headed downwards images of Lily flashed into his mind, but just before he hit the ground, a sudden weight slowed him down, enough that he went tumbling into the alleyway in a heap. Twisting around, the man was too dazed to do anything as the monster picked him up yet again.

"_**The word of scum like you is worth nothing. No. I want a magical oath." **_

"I-I need my wand..."

"_**I know. Don't. Try. Anything."**_

The sound of a small wooden object clattered to the ground. Snape scrabbled forward, reaching for it and whipped it towards the monster's form in the shadows. "_Avada Kedavra!"_ The spell went whistling into the darkness –

And Snape's whole world dissolved into pain.

WHAM! WHAM! WHAM! Snape screamed as the monster threw him into the wall, launching a powerful punch into his gut, twisting his arm and suspending him against the brick. _**"From this position there are eight options of disability. Five will incapacitate you, three will kill you, and one HURTS!" **_

CRACK! Snape screeched as the monster twisted his arm, and punched the joint, throwing him into the ground. His wand clattered onto the ground in two pieces after hin.

"_**It's called a compound fracture. It's just as good as a magical oath since I knew you would never make one. Your arm will never heal right. Every time you use your arm, you'll know never to come back into Gotham again... because when you do, I'll be waiting."**_

-B-

"How's the kid?" Batman asked as he returned to the Batcave, pulling his cowl off.

Zatanna glanced at him suspiciously. "What exactly did you do to him anyway?" When Batman gave her a stern glare, she turned away. "Actually, I don't wanna know..."

"Master Bruce," Alfred began, "while I do not question the child is traumatised, I must wonder whether bringing him here, when the police department still need to question him to gain an eyewitness account..."

"It'll be a cold case, because the alternative is something that Gotham isn't prepared for." Bruce's gaze hardened. "This one was here on a mission, from someone called 'Dumbledore'. Heard the name Zatanna?"

The sorceress gasped. "Dumbledore? Are you sure?"

"From your tone I'm guessing it's bad?"

"Depends on how you view it. Albus Dumbledore is a goddamn hero, one of the most powerful wizards in the world. Good, benevolent, leader of the light side..."

"The perfect alibi for a child kidnapping." Bruce interrupted.

"Bruce!" Zatanna protested. "That wizard's supposed to represent everything good in wizard society! He's their goddamn equivalent of Superman!"

"Then explain to me why there is a boy up there who had to witness the death of his parents at six by the hand of a man who was RETURNING HIM TO HIS ABUSIVE RELATIVES!" Bruce thundered. "On this 'Dumbledore's' behalf!"

"I know, look, none of this is making any sense," Zatanna sighed, rubbing her temples. "I haven't kept tabs on the wizards, they mostly stick to themselves that it's useless anyway. The last I heard they were in some sort of internal conflict that was threatening to spill out into our world, but they managed to get that quelled down. I guess I can contact a few friends, see what's happening... and gather info on our young friend here."

"If you had done that in the first place we wouldn't be having this argument."

Zatanna huffed. "Right. Night, Bruce."

As she left, Alfred spoke again. "Sir, very few possess the same tact or foresight you do."

Bruce walked to the Batcomputer, typing in a few keys. "I'm only human, Alfred, I don't exactly have bulletproof skin or super speed. Lack of knowledge could get me killed, and our young friend has opened up a new batch of variables..." his eyes narrowed. "And I don't like it. Is he asleep?"

"When I last checked, unfortunately not."

Bruce sighed. "It took me a month before I could go back to sleep after dad and mum died. I'll go check up on him."

"Master Bruce, I reiterate my concerns, is it wise to bring him here?"

"The only other choices he has is a hospital ward, which is now compromised and the GCPD, which wasn't exactly made for traumatised children. Not to mention we need to keep watch over him, should that man try anything..."

"And considering your usual penchant for fright tactics, that is highly unlikely..."

Bruce shook his head. "I could tell from the moment I saw him that he had more than enough experience with torture and criminality. I saw it in the eyes. He didn't seem the type to spook easily. But if what Zatanna's told me is true, wizard society is insular, and considering their magical roots, highly superstitious."

"Ah," Alfred noted. "And a man dressed in a Halloween costume is indeed a fearsome thing to those who can conjure fire with a single phrase."

Bruce couldn't help but slightly smirking at his butler's sarcastic humour, though it quickly vanished. "I'll need it – should more decide to come to Gotham."

"We both know that there's more to it than that, Master Bruce."

The vigilante sighed. "I told you before, Alfred... I won't condemn another child to this life!"

"From my observation, I fear this one will go into that life willingly. After all, though some things change, others stay the same."

Bruce knew exactly what Alfred was talking about, though he knew that Harry had endured a far worse childhood than him. It was like the very worst of Dick's, Jason's and his upbringing – a runaway and street urchin, an abuse victim, orphaned at birth, then orphaned again by murder. His biological parents' names were a mystery, his circumstances even more so. "I-I can't do it, Alfred," he whispered. "Not willingly, not after Jason..."

"Young Harry has been brought into this world cruelly," Alfred agreed. "But with what you saw tonight, I'd daresay he'd walk a similar path willingly, as you did many years ago. Don't you think that he could use some guidance?"

As much as Bruce hated to admit it – he saw a lot of himself in the boy. The same eyes, the same anger, pain, anguish, that had driven him to become what he was now. But to top it off, he could use magic, and from what he saw, he could be powerful – even Zatanna couldn't use her magic non-verbally like he did. "I've checked his school records. Perfect scores. He does Judo and kickboxing. Undeniably he's intelligent and physically adept, especially with the jobs of his adoptive parents… but Alfred, should I really do it? Should I really take his childhood away?" Bruce asked despondently.

"You yourself said that you have not been a child since that fateful night, sir."

"I… I need to talk to him."

"A prudent course of action, sir." Alfred watched as Bruce changed into something more casual and headed back to Wayne Manor. He had stood by his Master's side and watched as he came back night after night, bruised, battered, exhausted in a seemingly eternal war. Now that Master Dick had left to make his own name, he knew that Master Bruce had been left lonely.

And there was something else. Something important about that boy. It was nagging Alfred in his gut, and if there was something the butler trusted it was his gut which had saved his life several times in the course of duty. It seemed too much like sheer coincidence that a boy, with circumstances similar to those that had paved Bruce's own transformation had dropped into their laps. Alfred wasn't superstitious, but maybe it was a sign.

If there was someone more deserving than Bruce of finding some happiness, Alfred didn't know.

-B-

Bruce took a deep breath as he stepped into the room. "Hey," he greeted softly. "Are you asleep?"

Harry looked at him despairingly, before shaking his head.

"Still thinking about your parents, huh?" Bruce asked, sitting by his side.

The boy simply nodded.

Bruce hesitated slightly before opening his mouth to speak. "I… lost my parents as well. It happened in a place now called Crime Alley. I was walking home with them when a gunman came, demanding my parents' money. He was just a petty criminal." He swallowed. "The man, Joe Chill, shot my dad first before my mum. He left me, and went running off as I cradled my dad's hand…"

Harry looked up at him, and subconsciously reached for his hand. Bruce, almost reluctantly, took it.

A moment's silence passed between them, as if they had come to some mutual understanding. Then Harry spoke. "Why did he do it?" he asked in a hoarse whisper.

Bruce paused. "I don't know. Anger. Desperation. Enjoyment. Criminals aren't complicated."  
"Will he… get caught?"

"I'm sorry, but no. But he won't be coming into Gotham again, I can assure you that much."

"Then what's the point?" Harry demanded. "I want to kill him!" he growled in a venomous tone. "I want to watch him DIE!"

"If you kill him, you're no better than he is," Bruce warned in a foreboding voice, casting him a stern look. "You'll be just another criminal."  
"Then I'll stop him!" Harry retorted heatedly. "I'll stop all of them! So that none of them can kill anymore!"

"This isn't about vengeance. You can't bring your parents back to life."

"I know I can't! I don't want this to happen to anyone else! I want to show them I'm not afraid! I want… I want…" Harry paused.

Bruce's eyes narrowed. "What is it you want?"

"I want justice." Harry stated.

-B-

A/N: Before anyone flames me, this will be the last story I upload until I finish this or my Iron Man crossover. If nobody read the little author's note in said crossover, I am not likely to finish any of my older stories since every time I read them I wince in embarrassment. These two however are a different story.

If anyone protests Batman's treatment of Snape remember that this is striking home for him. This is circumstances similar to his own that transformed him into the dark knight. He became Batman to stop things like this happening.

This does not happen in any of the canonical Batman storylines, though I will be bringing in elements of them from time to time, from the movies, comics, cartoons, whatever. Already in this chapter I have fused elements from many parts of the Batman universe, and I intend to continue to do so, perhaps using a storyline with a Harry Potter spin on it from time to time, e.g. the Knightfall arc. Because this does not take place in the Batman timeline as such I am going to be rather liberal with it.

That being said I am hoping for a better end to Bruce that allows him to step down and lets someone else follow in his footsteps, other than the cold, bitter lonely man we saw in Batman Beyond. Frankly someone who sacrificed so much for his beloved Gotham deserves better, and I am already thinking about a pairing between Bruce and Talia.

The reason I did a Batman crossover was because I had some original ideas for it – like Bruce, Harry will refuse to use a wand against an opponent due to it being the weapon used to murder his parents, twice. Also, current Batman/Harry crossovers don't explore the fear and aura Batman permeates – I mean, if criminals are so afraid of him, then why shouldn't wizards, who are even more superstitious and cowardly, be even more fearful of him?

Anyway, I hope you enjoy.


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